


Snowfall

by deventio7



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deventio7/pseuds/deventio7
Summary: The first snowfall of the year is, by Hoshidan tradition, something to be celebrated. However, to some, the event holds other significance.





	1. Kaze

The air was cold, a chill that permeated his very being, down to his bones. It was Hoshidan tradition to celebrate on this day, but Kaze never went to the festival. Not anymore. The cold wind was bracing against his uniform as he trudged through the winding trail, his face bitter and pitiful. His daughter's light footfalls beside him were usually all that kept him from drowning in sordid thoughts on this day - but she was older now, and had her own life to lead. Today would be the first time he made this trip alone.

To most, the arrival of the cold, of the first light, beautiful snowfall of the year was something to celebrate. To revel in the arrival of the few days of snow Hoshido received every year... of snowmen, of snowball fights, of light and cheery laughter. Today was the day Kaze felt furthest from his countrymen, as the cold only brought with it a nostalgic pain. The bouquet rustled in his hand, the light paper it was wrapped in complaining at the strong grip he had apparently imposed upon it. This was difficult to manage, even the simple footsteps through the soft, delicate snow more melancholic than he liked to admit. Like he was trampling over her memory.

Kaze shook the errant thoughts from his mind, not wanting to be lost in them. He refused to look down at the flowers - pink roses, as bright as her hair, her boundless energy, her endless optimism. All cut short because the army had failed her. Because he had failed her. The memory swam in his eyes, her pleading, desperate form reaching out to him. To safety, to the oath he had sworn to protect her. The horror as her eyes suddenly turned pained and dull, the white frills of her uniform staining red.

The snow was cold, yet each tiny flake on his skin only caused it to burn hotter, gradually consumed in rage. Rage at Lady Corrin, rage at the world, but mostly at himself. He had failed to protect her, just as he had failed to protect Lady Corrin. He was a failure. Worthless. Were it not for the sole remaining light in his life, Midori, he would have taken it upon himself to remove his tarnished honour from his family's legacy. He lived for her now, to see her made happy, despite the loss of her mother. That was all that mattered.

He knew every other grave he passed as he neared hers had somebody else that cared for them, as he had for her. That in the end, she was a soldier, and that deaths on the frontline were expected. He had been ready to give his own life for Lady Corrin’s cause, but to have her ripped away instead… No amount of interrogation resistance training dimmed the unrelenting pain of the world’s cruelty. No, not pain. That was the wrong word. Emptiness. Like he had lost a part of himself, never to return. He sighed, the breath visible in the cold air as the warmth of the breath wrapped around, then passed behind him. He _had_ lost a part of him that day.

“Felicia…” The name was whispered, quickly picked up by the wind and carried away… He was not permitted to even share in its memory. His failure so massive, he may not remember the happy memories they had shared together. Their first date, their first kiss, his proposal, their marriage, their first (awkward) night together, Midori’s birth and each time they had been able to visit… All were picked up and tossed aside on the cold breeze, her name becoming one with the ice and snow.

He trudged through the nostalgic white powder, turning the last corner in his twisting path. Behind the tree swam a vision of her, of what he had lost… No. The colours were wrong. Icy blue where there should be pink on the long, elegant hair that draped down her back. She stayed turned, facing the grave marked with her sister’s name, seemingly uncaring about the man that had failed both of them. His heart leapt into his throat, his guilt redoubled, and he could do nothing but stand, frozen in place by her mere presence.


	2. Flora

She did not feel the cold, impervious to it as she knelt in front of her sister’s grave. She did not feel much, really. Not anymore. Felicia had taken her ability to feel with her, crystallizing the ice around her heart. Her hands were folded into her lap, clutching a gem tightly – blue sapphire. Long ago, when Felicia and her had been being outfitted for their uniforms, Felicia had misplaced it, and Flora had given her hers to calm her down. Later, Flora found the stone that had rolled under the bed, and so it came to be that the two sisters wore each other’s colours, even as the tiniest of accents, on their outfits. Each of them had had a part of the other always.

But that had all changed. Always, as it turned out, was not long enough. The slender fingers of her left hand stayed closed around the blue gem as those of her right came up to her chest, prying the red one she wore from its inset. Its cold, she could feel – the red sunstone had been exposed to the chilling outside air, its warmth stripped from it by the onset of winter. She clutched the two gems in each of her soft hands; the sparse warmth of her right doing little to expel the frigid cool of the red as the blue stayed warm, hidden from the biting air by her left.

She had always been jealous of Felicia. Though she liked to think herself above such pettiness, it was undeniably true, though she tried her best to not let it show. Felicia had always been the one people liked – her happy, bubbly personality being easy to get along with. On some lonely nights, Flora had even wondered if Felicia’s clumsiness was just a ruse; no one could truly be that terribly awkward, and it seemed to make her oh-so-frustratingly endearing to so many. In the end, Flora had decided that it did not matter, and her pride was more important to her than having friends. She had remained jealous, but that did not alleviate any of the pain of her loss. If Felicia’s behaviour had been a ruse, she had allowed it to fool her, and even smiled at feeling useful cleaning up after her. Never once had she had true animosity for her sister.

_It should have been me._

Felicia had been the one everyone liked. That had a husband and a child. That was invaluable on the battlefield, bringing knives thrown with deadly precision and healing her allies. Flora, comparatively, did very little of use. It had been difficult and frustrating to live up to the praise her sister had gotten on the battlefield, especially since she had joined much later. Everyone expected the cooler, (slightly) older sister to perform even better. Of course, she had failed those expectations with flying colours. Flora, for all practical purposes, was simply a pale imitation of Felicia. She had not even been on the battlefield the day Felicia had… been taken. If she had been, there was no doubt in her mind she would have sacrificed herself for her. Instead, she had simply nodded, dismissed herself, and locked herself in her room when Lady Corrin had personally offered her her condolences.

She placed the red gem on the grave, pressing it into the groove that she had requested be put there long ago. She had planned to return it to Felicia long ago, but she had found herself unable to part with it. As long as she wore the gem, however faintly, Flora could feel Felicia at her side, and she had appreciated the feeling. But she knew that if she were here, Felicia would urge her to move on. There was, sadly, no reclaiming the dead. Nothing could be done. Felicia was simply gone, and that was the end of it.

The soft snow on the ground masked the steps of the unknown approaching, and she allowed herself a brief moment of finality before placing the blue gem – hers, now – into the inset on her collar. She drew herself up slowly, her every movement solemn and melancholic as she slowly turned to face… Kaze. Felicia’s widower. She did not know what to say or do; the two had been good terms before they had both the most important person in their lives, but ever since, there had been a tension between them. Kaze had become frustratingly evasive, excusing himself whenever she was in the room, even when she was playing with her adorable niece.

This time, though, there was no avoiding her. There was a fire in her, one that drove her to find out why the man was so dismissive of her now. Had he only tolerated her presence to make Felicia happy? She had known him as a better man than that, and she had been wrong before, but the question had rung through her head too many times. She had not asked because they had always been in Midori’s mutual company, but he was alone now. She needed to know why.


	3. Frost

The flowers almost slipped from Kaze’s hand as he stared at the woman in front of him – too many ways the one he had lost, yet not in so many others. He had avoided talking to her whenever he could, unable to meet the eyes so similar to the person he had failed to protect, even though their colours may differ. He could only stare past her, unable to utter a single word. Nothing could redeem himself from the damning words she would speak. There was nothing to do but accept the suffering he had caused.

“Kaze… I do not understand. I thought we were close, but you have avoided me ever since… ever since,” She looked at him with no malice in her eyes – there was hurt there, but no accusation. The question, though it had not been phrased as such, stung at him deeply. She was not even aware of the magnitude of his failure, and had never had the opportunity to know how much she should hate him. How much he deserved to be scorned for his betrayal of his oaths, however unwilling.

Her words were soft, yet piercing – her very voice eating at his guilt despite the absence of any words that would imply it. “Flora, I… I cannot let myself face you. Not anymore. I promised Felicia that I would protect her, but… I was too late. I failed her,” He gritted his teeth at the memory, the feeling of helplessness that had taken him them wrapping its tendrils over his body once more, only amplified by the numbing cold that permeated the air.

Flora stared at him in confusion. She had not known Kaze particularly well, but he was a man of extraordinary loyalty. She walked toward him slowly, each step less hesitant than the last. “Kaze… you are a good man. The battlefield is fickle, and I am sure you did all you could. You cannot blame yourself…”

He had been going through the same thing she was. She knew from experience that carrying that much self-loathing was not healthy. It was hypocritical of her, yes, but on a conscious level, she knew. She also knew just how hard it was to absolve oneself of such guilt, of such helplessness, of not feeling good enough. She would not wish it on anyone, least of all the man that had made her sister so happy. “Felicia wouldn’t want to see you like this. You’re only hurting yourself the longer you believe it was your fault – hurting yourself, Midori, and until recently, me.”

He didn’t know how to respond. After such a confession, she was supposed to be furious. To storm off in a cold rage or to lash out in anger. Those had been the only possibilities, and yet she had flouted them with an ease that belied her honesty. She had always had a way of cutting right to the point, after all. While the way Felicia awkwardly fumbled about for meaning had always been endearing, had drawn him to her – he had changed, just as the world had, with her parting. It was a darker, bleaker place without her light, her warmth, but Flora had always been able part that particular fog in her own way. She was, at times, eerily professional and emotionless, but there was always something behind her eyes – something that implied that she was simply hiding her reaction instead of lacking one.

“You… you may be right, but-“

She hugged him. Compared to the cold of the air, the chill of the ambiance of the grave – it was warm. A different warmth than Felicia’s. Subtler. Cooler. But there nonetheless, her arms pinning his own to his sides. “I am right. I can’t stand to see you suffer like this, Kaze. Please, for her sake and those around you… absolve yourself. There is nothing to even forgive yourself from.”

He closed his eyes, his desire to be happy warring with his guilty pride. That was where the guilt came from, after all – he had thought that he was good enough to control their lives, and he had not been. The root cause of his failure had been thinking he could do too much. Once he understood that, it was… still difficult to let go, but he could see the truth in her words, if only a sliver. Grateful for the embrace, he broke it slowly, wordlessly walking to the grave to place the flowers on it, then returning to Flora.

“Thank you, Flora… that means much to hear you say. I do not think I can forgive myself quite yet, but perhaps…”

She only smiled gently, taking his wrist to lead him out of the grave. The chill of the night slowly frosted over the petals of the roses, turning their red an icy blue as they made their way out of the grave. There was a party to go to, after all, and it would make Midori happy to see him there. This winter... he would finally make an appearance.


End file.
